For several minutes, we continue in the same manner, moving just enough but at the same time not nearly enough. I think we’re both too afraid to make any sudden movements, or the intensity will cause one of us to lose.
One of his hands glides around to my lower back, and the other hand meets the back of my head. He takes a handful of my hair and gently tugs until my throat is exposed to his mouth. I wince the second his lips meet my neck, because staying quiet is a lot more challenging than I imagined it would be. Especially since he’s at an advantage with the way we’re positioned. His hands are free to roam anywhere they want, and that’s exactly what they’re doing right now.
Roaming, caressing, trailing down my stomach so that he can touch the one place that could make me cede victory.
I feel like he’s cheating somehow.
As soon as his fingers find the exact spot that would normally make me scream his name, I tighten my hold around his shoulders and reposition my knees so that I have more control of my movements. I want to put him through just as much torture as he’s putting me through right now.
As soon as I’m repositioned and able to ease myself further onto him, the slow-and-steady disappears. His mouth meets mine in a frantic kiss—one with more need and more force than any kiss before it. It’s as if we’re attempting to kiss away our natural desire to verbalize just how good this feels.
I’m suddenly hit with a sensation that ripples through my entire body, and I have to lift myself off of him and hold still before I lose. Despite my need to slow things down, he does the opposite and applies more pressure to me with his hand. I bury my face against his neck and bite down gently on his shoulder in order to stop myself from moaning his name.
The second my teeth meet his skin, I hear the hitch in his breath and feel the stiffening in his legs.
He almost loses.
Almost.
If he moves inside me even an inch more while he’s touching me this way, he’ll win. I don’t want him to win.
Then again, I kind of do want him to win, and I’m thinking he wants to win with the way he breathes against my neck, gently lowering me back down onto him.
Miles, Miles, Miles.
He can sense that this isn’t about to end in a tie, so he adds more pressure against me with his fingers at the same time as his tongue meets my ear.
Oh, wow.
I’m about to lose.
Any second now.
Oh, my word.
He lifts his hips when he pulls me against him, forcing an involuntary “Miles!” out of my mouth, along with a gasp and a moan. I lift off of him, but as soon as he realizes he just won, he exhales heavily and pulls me back onto him with more force.
“Finally,” he says breathlessly against my neck. “I didn’t think I could last another second.”
Now that the competition is over, both of us let loose completely until we’re being so loud we have to kiss again to stifle our sounds. Our bodies are moving in sync, speeding up, crashing harder together. We continue our frantic pace for a few more minutes, escalating in intensity until I’m positive I can’t take another second of him.
“Tate,” he says against my mouth, slowing the rhythm of my hips with his hands. “I want us to come together.”
Oh, holy hell.
If he wants me to last any longer, he can’t say things like that. I nod my head, unable to form a coherent response.
“Are you almost there?” he asks.
I nod again and try my best to speak this time, but nothing comes out other than another moan.
“Is that a yes?”
His lips have stopped kissing mine, and he’s focused on my response now. I bring my hands to the back of his head and press my cheek to his.
“Yes,” I somehow utter. “Yes, Miles. Yes.” I feel myself begin to tense at the same time as he sucks in a sharp breath.
I thought we were holding each other tightly before, but that doesn’t begin to compare to this moment. It feels as if all our senses have magically melded together and we’re feeling the exact same sensations, making the exact same noises, experiencing the exact same intensity, and sharing the exact same response.
Our rhythm gradually begins to slow, right along with the tremors in our bodies. The tight grips we have around each other begin to loosen. He buries his face into my hair and exhales heavily.
“Loser,” he whispers.
I laugh and move to bite him playfully on his neck. “You cheated,” I say. “You brought in illegal reinforcement when you started using your hands.”
He laughs with a shake of his head. “Hands are fair game. But if you think I cheated, maybe we should have a rematch.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Best two out of three?”
He lifts me by my waist and begins to push me toward the passenger door as he struggles to get behind the steering wheel. He hands me my clothes, pulls his shirt back over his head, and buttons his jeans. Once he’s situated, I adjust myself in the passenger seat and finish dressing while he cranks the car. He throws it in reverse and begins backing out. “Buckle up,” he says with a wink.
• • •
We barely made it out of the elevator, much less to his bed. He almost took me right there in the hallway. The sad part is, I wouldn’t have minded.
He won again. I’m beginning to realize that competing for who can stay the quietest isn’t really a good idea when my competitor is naturally the quietest person I’ve ever met.
I’ll get him in round three. Just not tonight, because Corbin will more than likely be heading home soon.
Miles is staring at me. He’s on his stomach, with his hands folded across his pillow and his head resting on his arms. I’m getting dressed, because I want to beat Corbin to our apartment so I don’t have to lie about where I’ve been.
Miles follows me around his bedroom with his eyes as I dress.
“I think your bra is still in the hallway,” he says with a laugh. “Might want to grab it before Corbin finds it.”
I crinkle up my nose at the thought. “Good idea,” I say. I kneel down on the bed and kiss him on the cheek, but he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me forward as he rolls onto his back. He gives me an even better kiss than the one I was just giving him.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He nods, but it’s a forced nod. He’s nervous about my questions.
“Why don’t you ever make eye contact when we’re having sex?”
My question throws him for a loop. He regards me for several silent moments until I pull even farther away and sit next to him on the bed, waiting for his answer.
He pushes himself up and leans back against his headboard, staring down at his hands. “People are vulnerable during sex,” he says with a shrug. “It’s easy to confuse feelings and emotions for something they aren’t, especially when eye contact is involved.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “Does it bother you?”
I’m shaking my head no, but my heart is crying Yes! “I’ll get used to it, I guess. I was just curious.”
I love being with him but hate myself more and more with each new lie that passes my lips.
He smiles and pulls me back to his mouth, kissing me with more finality this time. “Good night, Tate.”
I back away and walk out of his room, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. It’s funny how he refuses to make eye contact during sex yet can’t seem to keep his eyes off me the rest of the time.